


Drabble Effect

by Thunz



Series: Jane Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Citadel Dlc spoilers, DLC: citadel, F/M, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 12,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunz/pseuds/Thunz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles written for my tumblr. Covers all 3 games and more. Not in chronological order. Spacer/War Hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scuttlebutt

Shepard walked out of Mordin's lab mortified. How did he know what Garrus and she had talked about a few days ago? God, she needs a drink. Shepard walked to the elevator. Chambers called out something as she walked past but Shepard ignored her. As soon as the elevator arrived at deck three, Shepard made a beeline to Port Observation. Kasumi was at her usual spot, curled up on one of the couches.

"Hey Shep," Kasumi called out. "I was just thinking about you."

"Really?" Shepard asked as she went to the bar, not really interested in talking. Aha! Serrice Ice Brandy. She poured herself a generous measure and slammed it back.

"The word is that Garrus really likes you," Kasumi said mischievously. "I can never tell with turians. I think you should go for it. A lot of people want to see you two together."

"Oh god," moaned Shepard, covering her face with her hands. Shepard poured herself another shot and drank it. "You too? Can't I get some privacy on my own goddamned ship?"

"C'mon, Shep! You've lived on ships your whole life!" exclaimed the thief. "You should know what scuttlebutt is like."

Shepard grimaced. Kasumi had a point. "But how did it get around so quickly? We only talked about it... us a few days ago!"

"You two aren't exactly subtle about it," Kasumi explained. "The lingering glances, the shy smiles, the way your eyes light up when one of you enters the room. Anyone with eyes could see it happening... Wait a minute! Did you say you two talked about it? Are you going on a date? Dinner and a movie? Need help with a dress?"

Oh god. Shepard had made it worse. She refilled her glass.


	2. Gesundheit

Shepard suddenly sneezed, sending droplets of spittle and mucus flying. Ordinarily, this would not be much of a problem. However, she _was_ wearing her N7 breather helmet.

"Dammit!" she cursed. Since waking up after her reconstruction, she had never gotten sick. No coughs, colds, stomach bugs or fevers. The cybernetics Cerberus used to bring her back kept her free from infections. Either she had picked up something they couldn't handle (a scary thought) or her implants were malfunctioning (a scarier thought).

"What is it you humans say? Gesundheit?" Tali asked. Shepard reached up to remove her helmet. "Shepard, no! We just went through decon! You can't remove your helmet now!" An edge of panic was laced through Tali's voice.

Shepard stopped. Tali was right, the quarians would not be happy with her, contaminating one of their ships. "Dammit, Tali! I can hardly see!"

Shepard sneezed again, making the situation worse. Her eyes started itching and burning, causing tears to run down her face. "I can't see at all now!" she exclaimed with a thick voice, her nose now freely running with mucus dripping down towards her mouth. She sniffed trying to clear her nose. She wanted nothing more than to tear her helmet off and rub her eyes until the itching stopped. It felt like she had been hit with CS gas.

"Tali," she sneezed. "I think..." Sneeze. "I should go back..." Sneeze. Oh god. The inside of her helmet and her face... what a mess. Was Tali laughing? She was! Shepard could see the light on her helmet flickering in time with Tali's giggles. "What's so funny?" Sneeze. Dammit!

"Oh, nothing," Tali said smugly, after she finished laughing. Tali's omnitool lit up and she waved over Shepard. "There, you should be fine in a few hours. Head back to the _Normandy_. I'll get the dextro supplies."

"Wait! What did you do?" asked Shepard desperately. Tali couldn't fix this. She sneezed _again_.

"I hacked your implants so that your body was producing an excess of histamine, giving you hayfever," Tali said. "I just turned it off. Mordin knows a great deal about human physiology."

"What? Why would you do this? To me?" Shepard demanded angrily.

The airlock doors opened. Tali stepped through and explained, "Next time? Don't make jokes about _me_ sneezing in _my_ suit. For your information, we quarians solved that problem with the inside of our helmets 200 years ago!" The airlock doors closed with perfect timing.


	3. Coffee

The smell of coffee woke Shepard up. She was face down on a hard surface. She could see a few scattered datapads in front of her face. Her back and neck hurt from the position she was in, which seemed to be seated in a chair hunched over a table in the mess hall. That's right. She came down for a midnight snack while she read over the progress reports on the upgrades the _Normandy_ was receiving.

"Coffee, Commander?" asked Miranda who was over in the galley, pouring herself a cup.

Shepard sat up slowly and arched her back, stretching out her arms as she yawned. "What time is it?" she asked. She was awake now. No point going back to bed.

"Oh-four-thirty. The next watch should switching over soon," Miranda answered. "Do you want a cup?" Miranda held up the pot.

"That would be great, thanks," Shepard replied. She didn't feel normal until she got her caffeine fix. Shepard stood and walked to the counter where Miranda filled her cup. "That doesn't smell like Rupert's usual blend."

"It's not. This is from my private stash. I'm used to a more... refined blend," stated Miranda.

"You mean Rupert's coffee tastes like vorcha piss," snorted Shepard. She sipped her coffee. "Wow! This is good!" She drank some more. "Smooth, rich, intense." She sniffed her cup. "Smells great, too."

Miranda smiled at Shepard's enthusiasm. "I'm glad you like it. If you would like, I can get Gardner to-"

"No. Thanks, anyway. I _like_ Rupert's coffee. I've been on Alliance ships my whole life. Navy coffee is what I drink. Dark, bitter, thick and can be used to clean out coolant pipes. Rupert makes that, just the way I like it." Miranda looked crestfallen. Shepard smiled at her. "Besides, everyone in the Navy knows that the best coffee is the one you didn't make for yourself."


	4. RE: Horizon

_Kaidan_

The name sat there on the screen. Shepard stared at it. The blinking cursor at the end of his name taunted her. Shepard had no idea what to write. She didn't even know how she _felt._ After what he said on Horizon, she knew _exactly_ what she was feeling.

She thought Kaidan _knew_ her. To be accused of betraying the Alliance, the only place she belonged? Betray her dad's memory, her mother? Didn't he realise that would never happen? That using Cerberus was the only choice she had to stop the Collectors doing what they did to Horizon to other colonies? That doing so tore her up? To be told that she had changed? For her, a few weeks separated the destruction of the SR-1 and waking up on a station under attack from within. Two years had passed for him; if anyone had changed it was _him_. He _mutinied_ with her when they stole the _Normandy_. Now, he doesn't believe she would go to the same lengths again to stop the Reapers.

After reading Kaidan's letter, her thoughts and feelings were all over the place. She did care for him, deeply. Maybe she wasn't _in love_ with him but it was a definite possibility. It was obvious that he still had feelings for her, that he loved her despite his harsh words on Horizon. Two years of feeling guilty that she died, two years of mourning her had taken their toll.

It was stupid. Shepard could rally a crowd, inspire her crew, convince an enemy to stand down or even talk Saren into breaking his indoctrination but she couldn't type a few words to someone she cared about.

Maybe that was the key. What she had to tell Kaidan would be better off said face to face, not in an email.


	5. What to wear

Shepard stared at her wardrobe with disgust. There were only a few things in there that didn't have that stupid symbol on it. One was a horrendous civilian outfit that looked like it was made of burlap. No thanks. Then there was that skin tight one piece that Doctor Chakwas wore. Shepard didn't know how the doc could wear that. It didn't leave much to the imagination. They spent four billion credits rebuilding her but it looked like they didn't spend more than a hundred to give her something decent to wear. Well, maybe a bit more, her underwear was functional and fit properly, but not particularly _sexy_. Shepard didn't think that would be a problem.

Shepard lamented the loss of the numerous t-shirts, hoodies and sweats she had lost on the original _Normandy_. They weren't fashionable (like she cared about _fashion_ , anyway) or even particularly well-made. Her PT gear from the Naval Academy and The Villa. T-shirts that labelled her as crew of the various ships she or her parents served on. They were her personal history in physical form, tracking her path in the Navy from when she enlisted. All gone, now. She sighed.

The remaining outfits at least resembled uniforms but she was damned if she was going to wear that symbol. Shepard might be working with Cerberus but she sure didn't join them. Shepard was thankful her hardsuit didn't scream Cerberus. _That_ would go down well on Omega, which was where they were headed.

There wasn't much left to choose from. What seemed to be the standard issue utilities that the crew were wearing. They were obviously based on the Alliance shipboard utilities except in black, white and grey, with _that_ symbol on the shoulders. Why an underground group of humanity first terrorists had a symbol they were happy to display all over the place escaped her. Shepard was not wearing that. It would make her look like one of the crew, one of the guys, but she wasn't. She was the CO of a ship filled with people she didn't know or trust. Shepard used to wear the Alliance equivalent on the original _Normandy_ but there she _was_ just one of the guys. Sure, she was the CO but she knew that crew and more importantly, they knew her.

On this _Normandy_ though, she needed something that said she wasn't with _them_ , even if only she herself heard it. The last outfit would fit the bill, she thought. As close to dress blues as she could find, even if it wasn't blue. The high collar and long sleeves had the added bonus of hiding some of the scars that hadn't healed yet, they still made her cringe every time she saw them. That wretched symbol was there, though, on the cuffs and chest. Shepard was sure she could find some scissors or a knife so she could unpick the embroidery.

But it wasn't _Alliance_. There were no stripes indicating her rank or service tabs on the sleeves. Shepard still thought of herself as a Commander in the Alliance Navy. She wasn't, though. They called her Commander but that was just a title not her _rank_. She would be listed in the Alliance databases as KIA; killed in action. Dead.

For the first time in her life, Shepard wasn't in the Alliance.

For the first time in her life, Shepard felt alone.


	6. A stupid idea

Shepard stepped out of her small bathroom freshly showered. She checked Boo's food and water. As usual, Garrus had taken care of it. Since he had moved in, Garrus had taken over as the hamster's caretaker. Shepard moved to her desk and checked her messages. Aria had agreed to their arrangement. And so had Anderson. Good. Just one more stop, then on to Omega.

"Aria has agreed to arrange a safe location for me to hand over the _Normandy_ and myself to Anderson," she told Garrus. Garrus had been flicking through a datapad on the couch under the model display. He stood up and faced Shepard.

"I think it's a stupid idea, Shepard!" exclaimed Garrus. This again. Shepard had been over this with Garrus before.

"What do you expect me to do?" asked Shepard. "Fly around the galaxy, just you, me, EDI, Joker and Chakwas? In a nearly empty ship, just waiting for the batarians or someone looking for the bounty on me to hunt us down? How does that help anyone?"

"How does it help anyone if the Alliance locks you up somewhere? Who is going to convince the idiots in charge that the Reapers are about to arrive?" countered Garrus with a raised voice.

Shepard smiled. She was one step ahead of him. "You are," she answered.

"What? Me? You're the Reaper expert." Garrus looked confused.

"Not just you," explained Shepard. "I've got Tali to talk to the quarians, Legion; the geth, Liara; the asari. Wrex has most of the krogan onside now. I'm sure Grunt will remind him that there's nothing bigger than the Reapers to fight. So you get the Hierarchy, big guy."

"How am I supposed to do that, Shepard? I'm just a failed C-Sec officer and vigilante. No one will listen to me," Garrus said dejectedly.

Shepard's heart ached when Garrus put himself down like that. She stepped over to him and cradled his head in her hands. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "You'll find a way. You're so much better than you think you are," she said tenderly.

Garrus huffed softly. He put his arms around her, leaned down and gently met her forehead with his own. "Care to repeat that? I'll set my omnitool to record."

Shepard chuckled. "Ass!" she said. Her laughter was short lived. "You have to get them ready, Garrus. I need the largest military in the galaxy ready." She moved her hands behind his neck and hugged him.

"I will. Whatever it takes," he replied as he nuzzled the top of her head. "I still think it's a stupid idea."

"Orders, Garrus. Remember those? I'm not a bad turian, either. I have to do this," she said softly as she rested her cheek on his chest. "I don't want to. Especially not now." She squeezed him a little tighter. "We can't have the batarians declaring war on the Alliance. The Alliance has to at least _look_ like they're doing something about me."

Garrus squeezed back. "I know. It's just…" he hesitated. "I'll miss you." He ran his hair through his talons, gently scratching Shepard's scalp.

"Hmm. That feels good," she sighed. "Come on, we've got time." She grabbed his free hand and dragged him to the bed.


	7. Elanos Haliat

Shepard turned the corpse onto its back with her boot. Elanos Haliat, the man responsible for the Skyllian Blitz, for the attack on Elysium was dead. Shepard felt no satisfaction. Killing Haliat won't bring back the lives he took. It won't erase the memory of twelve hours of hell. It won't stop the screams of pain and terror she still hears in her nightmares. It won't make her scars disappear or the stiffness she occasionally feels in her shoulder stop.

"Elanos Haliat. Huh," said Garrus, breaking the silence. "Sounds turian."

"You'd be surprised, Garrus," Shepard answered. "There are a lot of human languages. Hell, Vakarian is a family name in a region called Armenia on Earth."

"Long-lost cousins, maybe," Garrus quipped.

"Bastard," Shepard said to the corpse with sudden anger. "Stupid greedy fucking bastard." She dropped to her knees beside the body. "All that death, all that pain and _what did it get you? Fucking nothing, you bastard!_ " she screamed. "Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. _Bastard,_ " she yelled and punctuated each _bastard_ by pounding the dead man's chest.

Suddenly, Shepard was lifted from the ground, two strong hands under her arms. She turned around quickly, causing the hands that lifted her to let go. It was Garrus. "He's dead, Shepard," he said calmly.

Shepard took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "I know. Sorry," she apologised. Shepard continued to stare at Haliat's corpse.

"You don't have to apologise, Shepard," Tali said. She had been quiet since they disarmed the nuke Haliat had hoped to take them out with.

"It's just... It was always batarians or raiders and slavers behind the Blitz. There was never _one_ person that caused it. _One_ person to focus that hate and anger on. To find out that... that _thing_ there masterminded it..." Shepard stopped. She rolled her suddenly sore shoulder to ease the pain. "Do you know anything about what happened on Elysium?"

"Just what was on the newsvids. I was still in the military," answered Garrus.

Shepard lifted her head and looked in the distance. "All that stuff about me 'single-handedly' saving the colony? Bullshit, all of it," Shepard stated.

"But you held out until Alliance reinforcements arrived and started blowing pirate ships out of the sky," Garrus countered. "That part, at least, was true."

Shepard glanced at Garrus then resumed her stare at the horizon. "It wasn't _just_ me. I had my platoon. There were other units there. Cops and civilians defended their homes. Holdouts all over the colony stopped the raiders in their tracks."

Shepard walked over to the Mako. Haliat had stolen it after he had lured Shepard and her team underground and trapped them there. "Tali, make sure that bastard didn't booby-trap the Mako," she ordered. Tali went to work.

"I was so pissed when I saw the media coverage," Shepard said as she watched Tali scan the Mako. "I lost my platoon that day. Hundreds of civilians were killed. I was singled out because I was lucky or photogenic or fuck knows why." Shepard _still_ felt angry about it. The real heroes were those that didn't make it through, as far as she was concerned.

"All clear, Shepard," announced Tali.

"Let's go," said Shepard smartly.

Maybe the dead will rest a little easier now.

Maybe.


	8. Whistling

There it was again. That strange high-pitched melody. It sounded familiar but Garrus couldn't place it. It stopped. He looked around the mess hall. Gardner was in the galley, cleaning up. Shepard was sitting at the other end of the table, looking over a datapad. Now that the mess hall was mostly empty, Jack had come up for her dinner. She was sitting at the seat to Shepard's right. The rest of the crew had returned to their posts or rotated to off-duty.

It was bugging him, not being able to place the sound. He had excellent hearing, superior to the humans on the _Normandy_. He should be _better_ than this. It started again. Garrus stayed still and attempted to localise the sound. It wasn't that loud, it had to be nearby. It sounded like a song he may have heard. It was tantalisingly _familiar_. He was sure he had heard it before. His visor wasn't much help. He'd have to upgrade.

Garrus risked a glance down to Shepard's end of the table. The melody stopped. Jack looked up from her meal. "What you looking at, Vakarian?" she asked around a mouthful of food.

"Just wondering how humans manage to talk with half their meal in their mouths," he retorted. Was it Jack making that sound? It was hard to see how. Human sounds usually originated from the mouth. Despite being able to talk with it full of food, Garrus couldn't imagine that melody coming from there when it contained that much food.

"Yeah, right," Jack said dismissively.

Shepard was still glued to her datapad, occasionally looking up at the interchange between Jack and himself. Garrus kept his eyes on her. Her lips, those strange, flexible, mobile lips pinched in, turning her mouth into a tiny hole. The melody started again. This time Garrus knew where it came from.

"There!" he exclaimed. "What is that? How do you do that?"

Shepard looked up, startled. The song stopped as she said, "What? The whistling? It's just an old song."

"How do you do that?" Garrus repeated. That such a strange sound, so unlike human speech could be made by them _annoyed_ him. It was as if they had hidden that talent from him. What else could humans do that he didn't know about? Whistling wasn't something that he had encountered before, despite his time in C-Sec and the first _Normandy_.

"We just put our lips together and blow," Shepard said, grinning. "One of the benefits of having lips, Garrus, instead of mouth plates."

Jack laughed, "There's something else we can do with lips too, Garrus. Maybe Shepard will show you, if you're lucky!" Shepard glared at Jack.

Garrus was confused. What the hell did that mean?


	9. Moving

"Where are we going this time?" asked Jane, who at the age of thirteen had moved eighteen times already. It seemed like just yesterday that they had arrived at Arcturus Station. Mom was assigned to a staff posting with the Fifth Fleet and Dad was with the marine security unit. Really though, it had been a year. That was just about the longest the Shepard family had been together in the one place since Jane was a baby. Usually, Mom and Dad were separated by the Alliance, assigned to different ships or bases because of _regulations_. Jane didn't understand that. Why keep her Mom and Dad apart?

"Your Dad's assigned to the _Tobruk._ It's part of the 23rd Scout Flotilla," her Mom answered. "And we're going to the _Adelaide_."

"A cruiser? Ugh, I _hate_ cruisers. They're too small!" complained Jane. They were. Cruisers were the smallest category of ships to carry family members. "We'll get a tiny cabin and an even tinier bathroom, _if_ we're lucky!" She was _really_ going to miss having her own room. A _proper_ bedroom, with a full size bed, a closet, a desk and even her own terminal! Soon, she'll be reduced to a room barely big enough to hold a bed. Friends as well. On Arcturus Station there were heaps of kids her age. Jane made friends easily, but on a cruiser, she would be lucky if there were more than four kids her age.

And her stuff! She'd have to pack. Jane _knew_ not to expect to have too many things of her own but with a larger room than she was used to, Jane had quickly filled it. She'll have to get rid of some of it. There was no way her parents would let her take all of it. Space was something ships did not have a lot of. The clothes were easy. There was plenty that she had grown out of. Then there were the things she didn't want to lose. Her ship models. Her books. Her mementos. That's what her parents called them. Little gifts from her parents from wherever they were posted or visited. Snow globes from Earth, a rock from Earth's moon, a little vial filled with red sand from Mars, plaques bearing ship names, a toy monorail set from Eden Prime and other things like that. Her favourite thing, though, was Gunny. Gunny was a teddy bear that used to belong to her Dad. He was battered, bare in places, patched and an eye short. He wore a silly looking hat with a wide brim. It looked someone squeezed the hat at the top so it came to a point. Dad called it _campaign cover_. It was the hat that used to be worn by marine drill instructors back on Earth. Her Grandpa's drill instructor wore a hat like that when he was in the UNAS Marine Corps, that was before humans had _even_ found the Archives on Mars.

While Jane was mentally cataloging her stuff, her mother replied, "It's not too bad, Janey. The _Adelaide's_ assigned to the Second Fleet. You know what that means?"

"Earth," Jane said excitedly. "I get to see Grandpa!" Visits to her only remaining grandparent were things that didn't happen very often. That was probably worth living on a cruiser for. She would get to spend some time dirt-side for a short time, at least. Seeing the sky from the ground freaked her out a little bit.

The doors to their quarters opened. "Daddy!" Jane cried. "I get to see Grandpa!" She ran up to her father who bent over to give her a hug. He didn't have to bend over much anymore, Jane noticed. The top of her head reached his chest now.

"That's great, sweetheart," Dad said to Jane. To her mother he asked, "Got your orders, too?" He released Jane, who moved to the couch and picked up a datapad that contained her homework.

"Yep. _Adelaide_ , Second Fleet. Earth as Janey said," she replied. "We've got two weeks before we ship out."

Jane was tapping away at her datapad. Algebra wasn't that hard but it _was_ boring. "Well," she heard her father say with a tone that embarrassed her. She could already feel her cheeks burning. "I guess we better make the most of it," her dad finished. This was followed by wet _smooshy_ sounds. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Jane was right.

Jane threw her datapad onto the couch beside her and stood up. "Eww," Jane exclaimed as she marched to the door. "I'm going to Erica's quarters for a while. I'll be back for dinner."

Jane wasn't sure if her parents heard her leave.


	10. World's Finest

"So Halloween is just people dressing as fictional characters?" asked Garrus, looking down at his black armour with uncertainty. He looked down at the yellow symbol Shepard had painted on his chest.

"Historical figures, too, but yeah," Shepard replied. She attached the mag-clamps sewn into the black cape to his cowl. "It used to be a Celtic religious thing. It transformed over time." She adjusted how the cape draped over the back of his cowl. Shepard stepped back and ran her eyes over Garrus. "Looking good, Batman!" Shame about the cowl, though. There was no way a bat cowl would fit over his fringe.

"Why Batman? Who is Batman, anyway?" queried Garrus. He rotated at the hips, making his cape sway and flow as he moved.

"I've let your education in human popular culture lapse if you don't know that," answered Shepard. "Batman is the quintessential vigilante superhero. Billionaire Bruce Wayne had his parents murdered in front of him as a boy and swore an oath to dedicate his life to the pursuit of justice. Bruce travelled the world, seeking training in every form of martial art, gymnastics, acrobatics, criminal forensics, psychology, criminology, anything that would enable him to pursue his goal." As she talked she opened her armour locker where her usually black armour had been painted a deep blue. Shepard had already put a temporary black dye through her normally red hair and slicked it back with some hair gel.

"So why didn't he become a security officer? Why fight crime as a giant flying rodent?"

"Gotham City was a crime-filled pus hole. Cops, politicians, judges were on the take from organised crime. There was no place corruption didn't reach," said Shepard as she strapped the armour pieces to her undersuit. "Bruce Wayne decided to fight crime as an individual but he needed an edge, something to counteract the numbers he was up against. He had one failed attempt at stopping crime that had nearly killed him. He sat in his empty mansion, the old Wayne family manor, brooding until a giant bat crashed through a window, scaring him and it sparked an idea. 'Criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot' he said. He decided to use fear as his edge. The costume, the cape, using the dark, stealth and most importantly - brains became his weapons." With her armour now on, Shepard handed Garrus her cape, which he attached under her pauldrons. Nearly done. Just fix the hair and put the symbol on her chest.

"So one man up against a city filled with crime and corruption," mused Garrus. "Huh. I see why, now. I can definitely relate."

Shepard moved to the bathroom. She carefully teased out a thick strand of hair and arranged it into an S shape on her forehead. Perfect. "I have to show you the Nolan movies. They're some of the best of the Batman movies. The later Kajima ones from the 2090s are good too. Just avoid the elcor adaptation."

Shepard headed back down to the main living area of her quarters. "So you want me to paint this on your chest?" Garrus asked, pointing at the image on the datapad.

"Yeah. Think you can handle it?" teased Shepard.

Garrus' mandibles flicked out, the turian equivalent of eye-rolling. "Please. So you're dressed as…?"

"Superman. 'Strange visitor from another planet with powers and abilities far beyond mortal men. More powerful than a locomotive, faster than a speeding bullet, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.'" Shepard quoted. She loved that hokey old introduction from the ancient television show. Even if she had to look up 'locomotive' on the extranet. "Jack calls me 'queen of the girl scouts'. Well, Superman is the ultimate boy scout."

Garrus had already painted the red outline of the shield and was moving on to the stylised S. Painting his colony markings over the years had obviously made Garrus a deft hand with a brush. Garrus finished the S and went to clean the brush and get the small tin of yellow paint Shepard had used earlier. Shepard grabbed the pair of spectacles off the coffee table. Kasumi had done a great job in acquiring the capes but Shepard had no idea where the thief would have found glasses. Especially a pair that looked this vintage.

Garrus bent over to start filling in the shield with yellow. Garrus' mandibles started twitching and his brow plates drooped as he painted. "What's wrong, Garrus?" He was embarrassed, Shepard realised.

"Just suddenly felt… awkward, painting this uh… region," stammered Garrus.

Shepard, with her weight on her right leg, left hand on her hip, started twirling the glasses in her fingers. She smirked as she looked at Garrus. "Just finish it, already," she ordered with an amused tone.

"Superman and Batman, best friends and equals. Partners in the never-ending battle. Heroes and symbols. World's Finest," Shepard declared. "Yeah, that will do."


	11. Deflection

"Who is _fucking_ with me?" Shepard demanded of the two Cerberus officers. Chambers looked scared. She damn well should be. Lawson looked calm. In the short time Shepard had known her, the only emotion Lawson had shown had been when she saw Wilson in the shuttle bay and shot him. Straight between the eyes, the muzzle of her pistol all but touching him. Even the deaths of all but one of her subordinates on the Lazarus Project Base hadn't fazed her. Ice, just like her eyes.

Shepard had toured her new ship as soon as she had come aboard. It was great to see Joker and Doctor Chakwas again, although Shepard couldn't help thinking how strange it must be for them, seeing her alive after two years dead or comatose. Especially Joker. Shepard didn't blame him for what happened but he didn't believe her. As always, Joker deflected her attempts to talk about it with humour. Shepard hoped he would come around eventually. He shouldn't be carrying that burden. It's not his to carry. It was _hers._

The crew seemed friendly and determined to stop the Collectors. "Kick 'em in their daddybags!" Engineer Donnelly had said in his Scottish accent. Shepard had checked out the new and improved _Normandy_ and always compared to the original, which soon became almost depressing. The SR2 outclassed the SR1 in every single department. Everything was bigger for a start. CIC, Medbay, Mess, eezo core. Separate bathrooms! Much better than the unisex arrangement on the SR1. Observation Lounges, port and starboard. Even a real galley and a cook.

What really upset her, and the reason for the current confrontation, was her cabin. It looked like it was designed and appointed especially for her. Which was fine, she admitted to herself. She did have to live here, for now, at least. There was a framed picture of Kaidan on her desk. That reminded her more of things that she had lost than of things to hope for. Her Star of Terra (or a perfect duplicate) sat next to the picture of Kaidan. Shepard's small collection of books, lost when the _Normandy_ was destroyed, had been duplicated and placed on the far end of the L-shaped desk. A bathroom, with shower, basin and toilet, just for her! There was an empty fish tank in the bulkhead nearly the length of her cabin. Shepard wondered if that was the best use of some of the water on-board. Couches, a coffee table, closet and a large bed under a viewport in the hull at the top of the ship filled up the living area, which sat lower than the working area.

But the glass display case, above her desk, separating the workspace from the living area below it? The display case holding a model of this _Normandy_ and room for more? It would have to go. And go _now_. Shepard had ordered Chambers and Lawson to her quarters to demand an explanation. It had to be one of them.

" _Who is fucking with me?_ " Shepard repeated. "I know one of you placed the order to put this thing in here. I want it _out!_ " She gestured at the case as she spoke.

Lawson looked at coolly. "I fail to see the relevance-" she began.

Shepard cut her off sharply. "If you know enough about me to put the thing in here, you know why I want it gone!" Shepard had had enough. She picked up the chair and threw it at the display case. Chambers squealed and took cover down the stairs. The chair stopped inches short, held in a blue biotic field. Shepard snarled and turned to face Lawson, fists clenched. Shepard had not been so angry in a long time.

Lawson gestured and the chair settled to the floor. "Commander, don't make me restrain you," she said calmly. Fucking ice queen! Show some emotion!

"I'd like to see you _try!_ " responded Shepard.

Chambers made her way up the short flight of stairs to stand between them. "Enough! Commander. Miranda. You can't fight like this!" she said desperately. "I did it, Commander! It was me."

Shepard admired Chambers' guts. Standing between her and Lawson took courage. Shepard lowered her fists as Lawson relaxed. "Why, damn you? Why?" demanded Shepard. "I don't want any damn models!" Shepard felt a lump in her throat and tears forming in her eyes. God, she was tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of hiding.

"Ms. Lawson, it might be best if you leave," Chambers said sweetly. Lawson raised an eyebrow in response. Chambers nodded.

"Make sure she leaves in one piece, Commander," Lawson commanded and left.

Shepard wiped her eyes and moved down to the L-shaped couch, signalling Chambers to follow her with a tilt of her head. Shepard sat in the corner and pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging her knees. Chambers stood at the end of the couch at the bottom of the stairs. Shepard nodded and Chambers sat.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Chambers said softly. "It's my fault. I read your files. It mentioned your model ship collection as a child. I just assumed-"

"Huh," Shepard grunted. "Never assume, it makes an ass out of you and me. One of Mom's old saws." Shepard rested her chin on top of knees and continued. "Did they mention I stopped? Or why?"

"No. Not that I recall," Chambers replied. "Commander, I'm a _good_ therapist. If I thought this was going to be a problem for you, I wouldn't have asked for the display to be installed. Do you want to talk about why it is a problem? It is my job, after all."

Shepard wondered how long Chambers had wanted to psychoanalyse her. "I believe you," she finally said. "I'm sorry, Ms. Chambers. You didn't deserve that. Neither did Lawson," Shepard admitted.

"Please, call me Kelly," requested Chambers - _Kelly_ with a smile.

"Okay, Kelly. The past few days haven't been easy," Shepard said grudgingly. "Then I see that-" she waved her hand toward the display case, "and it was all too much."

"Why did you stop collecting models?" She _was_ good. Straight to the heart of the matter.

"I started collecting the models when I was twelve. Not long after we moved to Arcturus Station. It was the first time we had really lived as a family. I finally had some space to myself. And a display case, just like this one. I thought that filling it would be fun. I still remember the first one. It was the _Pioneer_ , the ship Jon Grissom commanded on the first trip through the Sol relay. I messed up the painting of it. Mom decided to fix my horrible paint job. By the third model, Dad was helping me assemble them, Mom was painting them. It became our hobby as a family. A way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon, together." Shepard took a deep breath. That was the longest she had spoken since waking up. Shepard looked at Kelly. The concern on her face was genuine. Shit, she really did care.

"Not long after I turned thirteen, Mom and Dad got new orders. We'd been together for a year. Like a normal family. The Alliance was going to split us up again. Dad was assigned to a frigate, the _Tobruk_. Mom to a cruiser, the _Adelaide._ By this time, I had filled that display case." Shepard stopped. She still didn't really like talking about what happened next. "The _Tobruk_ was lost with all hands two months after Dad transferred."

"Oh, Commander, I'm so sorry," Kelly said with sincerity.

Shepard gave her a small smile. "It's okay. Six months after we lost him, we tried to build another model. The fact that we waited so long meant that we _knew_ that we wouldn't be able to do it without him. We tried anyway. But all it did was remind us that he was gone. That we would never sit around a table, all three of us, again. I never unpacked the models we made together. I think Mom shipped them off to Grandpa's. I never saw them again. I didn't want to see them again."

"I understand. But don't you think you overreacted? After all, it's just a display case." Kelly was suddenly very _professional_ and probing. "I think that there's a larger issue bothering you."

Shepard let go of her legs and sat up. "Yeah, I'm on a ship full of people I don't know or trust, except for two of them. _And_ they joined Cerberus, so do I _really_ know them?" she asked flippantly.

"Deflection," countered Kelly. "What's really bothering you?"

"I was dead! D-E-A-D! Dead! I should still be dead!" Shepard raged. "I don't even know if I'm _me!_ "

"Okay. You were dead," Kelly said calmly. "And of course, you're _you_. I didn't know about the models and I've seen every byte that even mentions you. That's a genuine memory from your past. We can't make that up. Look, we're going to have to talk more often about being dead and coming back. You're unique, Commander, and talking about it with someone can only help."

"Fine," Shepard said grudgingly. She had calmed down now.

"What I do want you to do, though, is get a ship model and assemble it. Talk to your dad while you do it, let him know how you're feeling, what you're doing."

Shepard was doubtful. Although, Kelly Chambers was far more astute than initial impressions would suggest. It might be worth a shot.


	12. Happy Birthday!

This was a disaster.

Garrus looked around at the mess he had created. Flour coated every surface of the galley. Cocoa powder added brown highlights. Eggshells lay scattered like used heatclips after a firefight. Bowls, mixer parts and spoons, coated with what was supposed to cake batter, were strewn over the counter like a trashpile on Omega.

Garrus sighed, dislodging some of the flour and cocoa coating his face, a small cloud falling slowly to the deck. Maybe he shouldn't have tried _calibrating_ the mixer.

He should have done what he was going to do and order a cake on the Citadel. Damn Joker and his interference. "Trust me, Shepard will appreciate the effort," Joker had said after Garrus had asked him to tell him the next time Shepard set course for the Citadel. "Ladies like it when you cook for them," Joker continued, completely straight-faced.

That will be the last time he takes romantic advice from the lifelong bachelor, even if he happened to be of the same species as Shepard. It still sounds clinical when he thinks of Shepard being another species.

The only smart thing he had done tonight was to do this at 0330 ship time. No one was around to see this disaster and he'll have time to clean it up before Gardner starts preparing breakfast. He'll have to replace the mixer, though. Nothing that runs on electricity should smell like that or be in so many pieces.

Damn. Back to plan A. No, it had to be today. And they were a long way from the Citadel. Damn.

"What the hell? Garrus?" Garrus jumped, knocking a mixing bowl off the counter with a loud clang.

Shit. Shepard stood barefoot, in a long t-shirt and trackpants next to one of the mess tables. Her arms were folded across her chest and one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Uhh… Happy birthday?"

Shepard stared at him. Crap. He'll never hear the end of this now. Shepard looked up at the ceiling above Garrus' head. Garrus looked up just in time for the batter to land on his face.

Shepard laughed, a big, hearty guffaw that Garrus hadn't heard in a long time. It was infectious and Garrus joined in.

 _Worth it_ , he thought, hearing her laugh. Completely worth it.


	13. Happy new year!

**Amaterasu**

**2248 hrs, 31 December 2286, Systems Alliance Universal Time**

One hundred years it had been. Years she did not ever think she would see. Years she did not think she would ever share with anyone, let alone him. Partner, best friend, lover, soul mate. She was a one-turian woman and he was a one-human man. Not that they ever had a formal ceremony, despite the urging of her mother, his family and their friends. That had surprised her, way back when. But he had never been a good turian. One more act of defiance to turian tradition. Not that she cared. One way or the other, they promised each other the rest of their lives. It was all the same to her. And it had been.

He was gone now. Waiting at the bar. She still woke up expecting to feel his warmth and weight on his side of the bed, his arm across her, his breathing tickling the back of her neck, his scent, that metallic, smokey scent in the pillows. She would open her eyes and none of that would be there.

She still tended his kitchen garden, filled with edible fruits, vegetables and herbs from Palaven. She loved gardening, which surprised her at first. Before she enlisted she hardly knew what dirt _was_ but the act of tending to living things, of making life, of _creation_ rather than destruction filled her with joy.

He had found new hobbies too. He painted. Oils on canvas, like the human masters of old. He had talent. A little rough and raw to start but as time moved on... He became famous again, in certain circles at least. Not with his real name, though. He didn't want his past exploits overshadowing his art.

Her fame lingered. Her name was still whispered in awe at various memorials around the galaxy or shouted out loud every April 11. A day named for her. She snorted as she shifted in the old rocking chair. Her birthday. The vid royalties still came in to her accounts. Fame had its perks.

She shifted again. It was hard to get comfortable now. Her body ached and was stiff. Old wounds and failing cybernetics taking their toll. She glanced at her omni-tool. 2342 hours.

It was a beautiful day. Warm, sunny, a breeze coming in from the ocean into her face. Local time, it was only 1042 hours. Still daytime.

They had chosen well. They had lived well.

She leant back into the chair and rested her head on the back of it. She closed her eyes.

Her omni-tool beeped.

10...

9...

8...

7...

6...

...

...

"Three... Two... One! Happy new year!" said the flanged voice, so familiar, so _young_! "I've been waiting."


	14. Christmas

“Ah, this takes me back.”

Kelly looked up from the stocking she was stitching. G R U in various colours had already been sewn onto the giant red stocking. A velvet N and T laid on the table in front of her.

Kelly saw Zaeed adjusting the Santa hat on his head so it sat at a jaunty angle. “Don’t tell me you killed Santa on one of your jobs.”

“Better than that, love. I _was_ Santa.

“Christmas Eve, it was, ‘bout twelve or thirteen years ago. The lads and me had been hired by a mining company to babysit a bunch of miners and their families on some goddam shithole in the Verge.

“Been there about two months. Bored shitless we were. Pay was good, though, so we stuck it out. And any job you ain’t gettin’ shot at is a good one.”

Kelly watched the old mercenary. He stared at nothing, lost in the memory.

“Anyways, Christmas Eve - a company of batarian slavers decided to raid. The company had some survelliance sats in orbit that gave us enough warnin’ to move the civvies into a mineshaft.

“Interrupted the Christmas party it did. The local boss was actin’ the part of Santa and givin’ the rugrats presents. Wasn’t he a sight as he ran for the mineshaft! Fat bastard all but abandoned everyone tryin’ to keep his own arse safe.

“Anyway, the batarians attacked. We killed them. I was the only one who made it out alive.”

Kelly was shocked. “Y-y-you mean they all died? The kids too?”

Zaeed grinned at her. “Course not, ya bint. How could I be Santa if that was how it ended? Christmas Day, the kids elected me Santa. The fat bastard boss was on the outer. Company sacked him in the end.”

“Oh, that makes more sense, I suppose.”

“Good kids they were,” Zaeed said with the hint of a wistful smile on his scarred face. “Still get cards from some of them.”


	15. Victory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this gifset by Zel: http://lady-z13.tumblr.com/post/40559887837/lady-z13-victory-at-any
> 
> Super short.

_**Victory… at any cost.** _

Tarquin Victus’ last words echoed as Shepard staggered towards the pylon, Paladin in her hand. Time to end this, once and for all.

_**The ruthless calculus of war.** _

The geth. EDI. _I’m sorry_ , she thought, as she raised her pistol and started shooting.

_**Give them hell, Shepard. You were born to do this.** _

Shepard straightened up, her stagger becoming a confident march as the pain left her. Her shots became more accurate, hitting where she aimed. _Goodbye, Garrus. I’ll be waiting._

_**You did good, child. I’m proud of you.** _

Sparks flared out as her bullets hit home. Shepard smiled. She advanced and kept shooting.


	16. After Death

“What did dying feel like?”

Shepard sighed. She knew this question would be asked. This was her third session with Chambers - no, Kelly. None of the crew - not even her old friends - had the courage to ask it. She could see the question in their eyes, on their faces, but they never asked.

Were they afraid of the answer? Would their beliefs or faith be mistaken? Did they see something in her eyes? Did she come back the same as she was before? Did she even come back? Do they see an empty shell that used to have a soul and was brought back against all the laws of nature and God?

Are they afraid of her?

If they asked: how does she answer?

The bright light? The feeling of warmth and love? The welcome by a loved one or family member? The comforting scenarios described by those that had a near-death experience over the last 200 years?

Or the truth? The moments of adrenaline-spiked panic as every fibre of her fought for air; followed by the calm, dispassionate acceptance of her fate?

Then… nothing.

No light. No dark. No warmth. No cold. It wasn’t like being asleep, either. No sense of time passing.

Just… nothing.

“Shepard?”

“It felt like… I don’t remember.”


	17. Message Sent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little thing inspired by this picture of my Shepard by queendread on tumblr: http://queendread.tumblr.com/post/44486162411/commander-jane-shepard-for-thunz

**[ALLIANCENAVYSMTP:::21830403-1523UAT:::]**

**[FROM:::JSHEPARD@NORMANDY.MIL.ALL:::AKD3789]**

**[TO:::HSHEPARD@KILIMINJARO.MIL.ALL:::GHD4727]**

**[MESSAGE:BEGINS]**

 

Hi Mom.

Sorry we missed each other. I heard you were due to the Citadel around the same time I was here and was hoping we could get together but things won’t work out, I’m afraid. I’ve got new orders and will be shipping out in a few hours. I can’t even tell you where we’re going because, well, you know, loose lips and all that.

Would you believe I spent nearly all day yesterday getting holos taken of me? Publicity stuff, the Alliance public affairs Staff Looie said.  The Hero of the Citadel needs to be marketed he said. I told him I was a marine not a model. But I had orders. So did he, I guess.

They had me in and out of my blues, armor and fatigues. Posing with fake weapons. Hair and makeup “artists”. I could not wait to shower! They coated it on!

They must have gotten what they wanted because they let me go. It’s better than getting shot at, I suppose but not by much.

I have some of the holos here, wait a sec and I’ll find one to send to you…

Goddamn it! They removed my scar! Show me as I am, you assholes! I’m not a model, I’m a goddamned Alliance marine! That Staff Looie is gonna hear from me!

Here it is then. Dress blues and a faraway gaze. It’s better than the ones with the fake rifles.

Anyway, I hope you’re well and we get to catch up soon. I’ll probably be unreachable for a while, maybe a few weeks. You know how it goes.

Love you, Mom.

Jane.

 

**[MESSAGE:ENDS]**

**[FILE:ATTACHED:LTCDRSHEPARD122.HOLO::262517B]**

**[13321321ADGGDA &23]**


	18. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Citadel DLC drabble. Set after the story content of the DLC.
> 
> Citadel DLC spoilers ahead.

“Hey! No biting!” exclaimed Garrus as the detached husk head screamed. “Shut up! I’m putting you back!” Garrus suppressed a shudder. That head gave him the hoobie-joobies… heebie-jeebies – whatever that expression Shepard used.  He still had no idea why Shepard kept it next to her Star of Terra. Somehow, it worse than a complete husk, even though they were usually trying to kill him and Shepard.

Garrus looked around Shepard’s desk for anything out of place. All her things were back where they belonged. Models, medal, hamster, creepy bodiless head. The fish were okay. The chess set was on the other desk, down by the bed.

“Everything’s back where it should be,” he announced as he walked down the steps. “Even that head. I still don’t know-“ Shepard was sitting on the sofa, legs folded up in front of her, arms tight around them. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Her.” She waved him over and patted the sofa next to her. Garrus obliged. Shepard – _Jane_ – tucked herself under his arm and leaned against him. “She was so lonely. It’s sad.”

“Yeah,” Garrus replied softly. It was hard watching _her_ face at the end. The pain. The _acceptance_ on a face as familiar to him as his own. A face that had never looked that defeated. Even Thessia hadn’t put that look on Jane’s face.

Jane sat up to look at him. “Is that who I would have become if I didn’t have my parents? The Alliance? Anderson? My friends? You? Sad, lonely and bitter?”

“Nature versus nurture, huh?” he asked. “It’s not even that is it? A flash-grown clone and all her knowledge comes from neural implants. She didn’t have the chance to be normal. To grow up and experience life. She probably had more in common with Grunt than you.”

“Ha! Maybe so,” Jane said with a small, tight smile.

“And while Grunt had your shining example to follow, _she_ only had that _bosh’tet_ Brooks.”

“Yeah.” Jane looked wistful. “She could have been my sister. A Shepard for real - without stealing my name.” She wiped her eyes. She leaned back and tucked herself up against him. He held her tight. “All she had to do was _ask_!”

“Some people – they just don’t know how to.” He leant his cheek on the top of Jane’s head. “Come on. We’re still on shore leave, remember? We should go. Or is it _we_ should go? We _should_ go? We should _go_?”

“Ass! You’ll pay for that.”

“Promises. Promises.”


	19. Not to yield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Ashley Williams drabble, set just after Eden Prime in the first game. Title from Tennyson’s Ulysses.

“Gunnery Chief Williams, reporting as ordered, sir!”

Captain Anderson put down the datapad and looked over the young marine. Freshly showered and wearing a borrowed set of fatigues, she looked every inch a marine. The chief’s ‘at attention’ could be used in the training manuals. “At ease, Gunny. Have a seat.” He waved at the empty chair to his left.

“Thank you, sir.”

“So, a Williams, huh?” Might as well break out the big guns early. He needed to see how big the chip on her shoulder was. From her service history, it looked like it was quite the motivator.

Williams’ mouth tightened to a line before she answered. “Sir!”

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“Sir?”

“If you get assigned to the _Normandy’s_ marine detail, will you take foolhardy chances to clear your family’s name? Will you put my marines at risk? Can I trust you?”

Williams lit up as she grinned. “Sir, you’d give me a shipboard posting?”

Anderson chuckled, unable to keep up any appearance of the stoic CO in the face of that grin, “Answer the question, marine.”

“Uh, right. Sir. Yes, sir. You can trust me!”

“Good to hear,” Anderson said. “Lieutenant Alenko’s report only confirms what I’ve read of your record. You’re a fine marine. Any unit should be proud to have you.”

“Thank you sir.”

Anderson leaned back in his chair. “I fought at Shanxi with the Second Fleet. I don’t envy the position your grandfather was in.”  
  
“Sir, if I may, what would you have done?”

“Damned if I know, Gunny,” he answered. “I do know that _you_ are not your grandfather. You shouldn’t have to make up for any of his decisions. Hell, based on your testing on enlistment you should be an officer. I judge my crew and my marines on their performance, not their name.”

He pressed a few buttons on the datapad. “There. Welcome to the _SSV Normandy_ , Gunnery Chief Williams. Go back to your barracks and pack your things. We leave Eden Prime at 0800.”

Williams stood up, came to attention and saluted. “Sir, yes sir! I won’t let you down!”

“Dismissed, Gunny.”

Williams paused at the door. “Sir, the commander?”

“Doc says the commander will be fine. She’s sleeping now.”

Williams gave a small nod and left.

************

Ashley closed her eyes and sighed as the door to Captain Anderson’s cabin closed behind her. She hated getting grilled about her grandfather by every new or potential CO. At least Anderson promised to judge her for _her._

A shipboard posting, finally. Ashley felt guilty that it took the near-destruction of a colony and the loss of her unit to achieve it. The 212, gone. Bhatia, Zheng, Franklin, Schmitt, Nakamura, gone. Her squad. Her responsibility. _Later_ , she thought.

“Chief? You okay?” A voice startled her out of her reverie. The elltee, great. Good job, Williams. She snapped to attention.

“Sir, fine sir.”

“As you were, Williams,” Lieutenant Alenko smiled. “We’re a little more relaxed aboard ship compared to a garrison posting. The captain notified me of your transfer. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You fought well down there. Must have been tough, losing your unit.”

Ashley examined the lieutenant’s face. A crease formed between his dark eyebrows. “It’s never easy, sir, losing friends.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ashley swallowed trying to dislodge the lump that was starting to form in her throat. “But sorry doesn’t bring them back.”

The lieutenant looked chagrined. “I know but I am anyway.  If you think you-“

“Don’t you dare say I feel guilty!” Ash said with venom as a surge of anger replaced the sadness. “I don’t! I have nothing to be guilty about! We were attacked by a force with superior numbers! They came in a ship that wiped out half the colony with a few salvos! Nothing short of the Fifth Fleet and half the _fucking_ marines in service could have stopped the geth!

“I fought to the end, _Lieutenant_! I would have died down there, _happy that the last thing I did killed an enemy of humanity!_ Survivor guilt? _Hell no_! They’re gonna wished they killed me! My survival means _I’m coming to get them_!”

Ashley stopped to breathe. She was suddenly tired. Her tirade and the last few days have drained her.

Lieutenant Alenko looked at her coolly. “Finished, _marine_? Good. I was going to say – if you think you need to talk about it, my door is always open.”

It was Ashley’s turn to look chagrined. “Sir, I apologise, sir.”

Alenko smiled, his warm brown eye softening. “Forget about it, Williams. I know what it’s like to let emotion get the better of you.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You need to go pack.”

“Aye aye, elltee.”


	20. Smooth Or Crunchy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy little ficlet!

> Inspired by orchidcactus' headcanon [post](http://orchidcactus.tumblr.com/post/48907700022/servantofclio-replied-to-your-post-ok-so-ill) about this pair!

“Why don’t you try this one? Look, it has a cute little krogan on it. ‘Krogan Krunch’ – with a K instead of C.”

“Are krogans ever cute? I tried that one already. Too salty.”

“ _I_ like salty.”

“ _You_ can’t eat peanut butter.”

Don always enjoyed listening to their banter whenever the couple stopped by for groceries. The elderly turian was the reason Don stocked a small supply of dextro food and other turian specific goods. He was the only turian within 500 kilometres of Colville.

Don had known a few turians back during the war. Good soldiers. Hadn’t seen many since he’d set up shop in Colville. You couldn’t even call Colville a town. An outpost, more like. Out in the wilds of Amaterasu.  Just like every other colonial outpost in a galaxy with hundreds of them.

Except for the odd couple over there, talking about peanut butter.

Don knew who they were of course. Everyone did. Even if the image they had of the most famous couple in the galaxy was of them, thirty years younger. But to Don and the people in and around Colville, they were just Jane and Garrus. Two retirees who lived on an island just off the coast.

“Jane, look at how cute the krogan is!”

“Garrus, do krogan even eat peanuts? Fine. Get it.”

“Still love me?”

“Always.”


	21. Orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just prior to Arrival.

“You’re going?” An obvious question. She was already in her armour.  
  
“Orders.” That was her answer. Like it was enough.  
   
“Even these ones?”  
  
“It’s a simple sneak and grab. I’ll be fine.”  
  
“Take me. Take Kasumi. Take someone!” She was shaking her head before he finished.  
  
“Orders,” she repeated.  
  
“I don’t like it.”  
  
“You don’t have to.” She sighed. “See this emblem on my chest? This is the sort of thing I trained for… and excelled at.”  
  
“I know.” He rubbed the back of his head. “You’ve been working with three-person teams for so long, though… “  
  
“You think I’ve forgotten how to watch my six?” She grinned. “Those batarians won’t even see me.”  
  
“I don’t know. Something about this feels wrong.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Why does Hackett need you? Why _you_?”  
  
“Plausible deniability. This is not an Alliance ship. I am not an Alliance marine.” She looked down, hiding her face from him. “Not anymore,” she whispered.  
  
He nodded. “Ah. That’s why you agreed to this.”  
  
“I need to get back in, Garrus. With what’s coming: I need Hackett. I need the Alliance.” She looked up. “The best place to get them onside is from within.”  
  
“So you do this favour for Hackett-“  
  
“-and wipe some of the Cerberus stain away.”  
  
“And you get to go-“  
  
“Commander? Ten minutes to drop point.” _Dammit, Joker!_  
  
“Roger. Gotta go. Back in a few hours.” With that, a quick kiss on the scarred side of his face.  
  
 _Home. You get to go home. Where does that leave me?_  
  
Garrus watched her leave. Alone.


	22. The Accidental Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother's Day fluff!

“You should totally do this, big guy!” said Joker over the intercom. “Shepard will love it!”

Grunt wasn’t so sure. Shepard was his battlemaster, not his mother. He didn’t have a mother or father. Grunt was created in a lab. The finest genes krogans had, all assembled by a mad old warlord. Neural implants and programming to teach him to be the strongest and mightiest of warriors.  Pure krogan.

Which he was, but…

There was something about Shepard. She fought the biggest enemies. And won. Time after time. Even death couldn’t claim her. In all the histories of the greatest krogan warriors Okeer had planted in his memories – none had come back from the void.

Even Urdnot Wrex, as strong and tough and canny and old as he was, respected her. Enough to let her tank-bred krogan do the Rite and become Urdnot.

Great. Joker had even got himself thinking he was her krogan. One day, he’s going to roll Joker up like a rug, just to see if he can. Smartass.

He remembered the first time they sparred, down in the cargo bay. Shepard had impressed him with the pistol and her promise after he was released from his tank. But he thought she would prove no obstacle in a fight. He was pure krogan. She was a small female human.

He was strength, power and unstoppable fury. She was speed, agility and guile. “Rage blinds you, Grunt,” she said. “Think first, then fight.”

“Krogans fight first, always.”

“Yeah. Look where the krogan are now.”

In a rage, he charged. There she was, smug smirk on her face. She was gonna pay. He roared. Then she wasn’t there. He hit the side of the shuttle so hard it left a dent and him unconscious. “Rage blinds you,” was all she said when he woke up.

That’s how it went, whenever they sparred or went out on missions together. Shepard was always trying to make him think. To observe. To come up with a plan before charging in. He was a better fighter now, a better krogan.

“Okay, Joker, I’ll do it.”

“Awesome! So, uh, what are you planning on getting her?”

Grunt thought hard. “A Kuwashii visor like the turian has. There’s a place on Omega that had some last time we were there.”

“Sounds great, Grunt,” Joker replied. “Hey, you should get her a card. It’s traditional. It’s even better if you make it yourself.”

Joker sounded pleased with himself. Too pleased. “If this is a joke, I will make the card out of you!”

“Whoa! Easy there, big guy. No jokes. I really think Shepard will like it.”

“All right. What should the card say?”

“On the front… let’s see. Put something she likes on the front. Or, you know, flowers or something.”

“Shepard is a warrior, not a florist! A gun. Or a dinosaur. No! A shark!”

“Yeah, that’ll work. On the inside, uh, just write how you feel about Shepard. Yeah.”

“Got it.”

**********************************

Grunt shuffled from foot to foot as he stood outside Shepard’s door clutching the box he had carefully wrapped. He even tied a bright pink ribbon around it with a bow and slipped the card under it. He reached out to hit the door controls and hesitated. He wasn’t scared. He doesn’t get scared.

The door opened before Grunt could decide whether he was going through with this idea or not. Shepard walked straight into him and bounced off. “Ow! Grunt?” she asked, rubbing her forehead. “Need me for something?” Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw the gift-wrapped box. “What do you have there?”

Grunt shifted his weight back and forth. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Not scared. “Uh, it’s for you.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “For me? Come in then.” She turned around and headed down the stairs past her office. Grunt followed and sat on the couch after she waved at it as she sat.

“What’s this for, Grunt?”

“Here,” he said, handing the box over with a jerk.

“Thanks, I guess.” Half a smile formed on Shepard’s face. “Card first or box?”

“Box!” The card was personal. Personal was still hard for Grunt. Maybe he was scared.

“Let’s see, then.” She untied the ribbon and slid a finger under the wrapping paper. “Flowers?”

“It was the only paper I could get.”

“It’s lovely.” She unwrapped the box carefully, keeping the paper in one piece. “A Kuwashii visor! How did you know?”

Grunt smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “I saw you look at the listing at Harrot’s. I could tell you wanted it.”

“Thanks, Grunt!” she said, beaming. “So what’s this for?”

Grunt swallowed as his smile wavered. “Read the card!”

Shepard looked at him, eyebrows raised.  She pulled the card out of the envelope. Shepard examined the front. Grunt was proud of that shark. He spent a long time on it. An hour, maybe an hour and a half.

“Is that a shark? It is! A hammerhead! Did you draw this yourself?”

“I did!” He sat up straighter. “Look at his mouth! He’s eating a turian!”

Shepard shook her head and opened the card. Her jaw dropped and her mouth formed a perfect o of surprise.

 ~~SHEPHARD~~ SHEPARD  
IF THERE WAS A CLAN ~~N~~ SHEPARD  
I WOULDD BE HONORED  
AND ~~PROWD~~ PROUD TO BE PART OF IT  
HAPPY ~~MOTHR~~ MOTHER’S DAYY  
GRUNT


	23. Red Janey

 

_Red Janey._ Only one person ever called her that. Shepard grinned as she saw the holographic sign. Simon El-Baz. Official clown of Arcturus Station High School, class of 71. Also Shepard’s first, and eventually best friend in high school.

They had drifted apart over the years, as school friends tend to do. Shepard was busy with the Academy, then the Navy. Simon headed to Earth for his undergraduate degree.

One of the mercs shouted something at Shepard. Probably an insult or a threat. Right. She should finish this. She looked at the sign again, still grinning and shook her head. Shepard made a note to come back when there wasn’t anyone shooting at her.

Shepard returned a few days later. Not exactly the shore leave she was expecting. She didn’t really have a great track record with shore leave. Shepard walked towards the store with anticipation. It had been a long time since she had seen Simon.

It was still shut. Strange. The other stores along this strip were open. Shepard approached the security door, hoping to see something through the small glass panels. Too dark.

Dammit. Shepard considered using her Spectre access to open the store and snoop around. No. That felt… criminal. Wait. She was too used to Spectre access and having the Shadow Broker around. How about simple? She called up a Citadel directory on her omnitool.

She tried the store first. Straight to an automated service. There seemed to be only Simon El-Baz listed. Shepard called it.

“You’ve reached Simon El-Baz. Well, not really. This is a recording.” Definitely him, though. Her Simon. “I’m not on the Citadel right now.” Damn. “For those that hadn’t heard, my father passed away suddenly, so I’m heading back to Earth for the funeral. I’ll be away for a week or so.”

The message continued but Shepard stopped listening as her stomach dropped. Earth. Shit. Shepard disconnected the call. This time she did use her Spectre codes. She opened up the C-Sec departure records and searched for Simon’s name.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Simon was scheduled to arrive in London two days before the Reapers hit. Shit. Fuck this war.


	24. Better

“You’re a better turian than I am.”

“Huh?” Shepard looked up from the report she was trying to decipher. The numbers and fleet dispositions and planet names had blurred into nonsense a while ago. Lack of sleep, with only coffee and hastily eaten protein bars to sustain her were taking their toll. She really should take time and eat something decent but there was always something dragging her away.

“I said you’re a better turian than I am.” Garrus was tapping away at his own datapad on the other side of the L-shaped couch.

She snorted. Loudly. “Does that mean we can finally share a meal?”

“I’m serious.” Garrus looked up and Shepard saw he was. No telltale flicker of his mandibles. No warm glint in his eyes.

“How do you mean?”

“You enlisted as soon as you were legally able to, right?” Shepard nodded. “Haven’t served your 15 years yet?”

“Close, but I think the three years I was either dead, working with Cerberus or locked up don’t count.”

“Your family has a long history of service. It might even be considered mandatory.”

Shepard shrugged. “Kinda? It’s just a thing we do. I was never pressured to and I don’t think Dad was. But Dad’s side does go back to the Second World War. However-many-greats grandpop served under Chesty Puller.”

“Chesty? Is that a name?”

“Nickname.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know the history of it.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “You follow orders. Even now. Tired - no - exhausted. Hungry. Still doing paperwork. Still ready to jump up, salute and say ‘yes sir’ if Hackett calls.”

Shepard raised her eyebrow at him. “Is that a complisult?” At Garrus’ confused look she said “Never mind. Old joke, old vid. I think stealing the Normandy and working with Cerberus might go against that.”

“Twice,” he said triumphantly. “And going after the Collectors doesn’t count, anyway. Anderson and the Council approved, even if reluctantly.”

“You have a point, I suppose,” she conceded.

“And finally - “

“Thank God!”

“Quiet, you!” Garrus glared at her. “Finally - your crew. I don’t think anyone else would do the things you do for your crew.”

“Sure they would. Any leader wants the best out of their people.”

“But that’s not what you do. You don’t get their best. You make them _better._ Wrex leads his people. Grunt - _Grunt -_ a baby in krogan terms - leads a company. Tali’s an admiral. Liara’s the Shadow Broker. Through Legion you made the geth allies. Jack - _Jack -_ is a teacher! Don’t you see?” Garrus was nearly shouting now. 

“Jacob and Miranda left the Illusive Man and started working against him.  You’ve taught EDI how to be alive. Kaidan formed and led a company of biotics, then became a Spectre. Mordin cured the genophage. Vega’s on the way to N7. Cortez has a reason to fight and live again. Even Traynor’s not the nervous tech she was.”

Shepard felt her cheeks turn warm. She hoped it didn’t show. “I just - shit. This is going to sound as corny as hell.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I just try and do the right thing. By everyone. For everyone. I’ve been lucky,” she said, shrugging. “They all would have made it on their own.”

She grinned. “What about a burnt-out C-Sec officer? Did I make him better?”

Garrus’ mandibles flicked out. “A little. He was damn near perfect anyway.”

“Ha! Yeah, right,” she snorted. “Mr Reaper Advisor who gets generals saluting him.”

“I did say ‘a little’.”


	25. Karma

There was always a hum. Thrusters. Eezo cores. Fans in the life support system. Plumbing behind the bulkheads. Shield generators. The background melody of a ship. Shepard remembered tales from engineers who would claim to know exactly what was wrong with their ship based on that hum.

Now, there is no hum. The faint whisper of the HVAC system, maybe. But no _hum_. The Alliance Headquarters building of concrete, steel and glass was too quiet.

Shepard didn’t think it was possible but the absence of that eternal white noise was deafening. Her brain made up its own white noise, filling her ears with a high pitched ringing that made it impossible to sleep.

To think she laughed when Tali said the _Normandy_ was too quiet. Now Shepard knows exactly what Tali went through. Karma’s a bitch.


End file.
